Got To Get You Into My Life
by pessimism is poison
Summary: In the free-spirited year of 1968, Callie Elling has a lucky run-in with Paul McCartney. Only two problems: Callie is a simple nurse-in-training, and Paul is seven years her senior. While tensions between The Beatles grow thicker, Callie stubbornly dreams of an impossible romance and Paul must decide whether age is really just a number.
1. Chapter 1

Oh man, I forgot to add an author's note to introduce this new story. Whoops. Anyways, I've (obviously) started a new story, this time featuring Paul in the year of 1968. I'll still be continuing my other story, but I'll be sporadically writing and updating both of these fics. Please, please, _please_ let me know what you think! I've never focused on Paul's personality so much in a story before and I would_ love_ feedback. Read, review, and enjoy! :)

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Incessant; never-ending, persistent.

The definition which most accurately summed up the workload since beginning my college education. I enrolled in London's nursing program two years ago and, while I enjoyed the career I pursued, it was hard to ignore the blisters, aches, and exhaustion. Round two. My second year. Most hands-on patient treatment would begin. When I was a freshmen in the program, I would only clean bedpans and change sheets, but now it was time to put books smarts to the test; Drawing blood, prescribing simple vaccines, and bandaging wounds. Although my first task of the morning was much simpler than expected.

"Sore throat," said the ward manager as she slammed down a worn clipboard.  
"Pardon?" I glanced up quickly to face my seniority's tight expression. Nurse Jocelyn was her name. Although often the butt of jokes (of which subject matter usually included 'what was up hers'), she actually had helped me a great deal.  
"Callie, this sore throat doesn't belong to just anybody. I'm not going to stick a second year student with a classic case of 'drink lots of water.' It'll be your first house call."  
My thin eyebrows knitted together, as they often do (and for which reason had now formed an unfortunate yet faint wrinkle above the bridge of my nose) as I scanned over the debriefing. The name at the top of the page caught my attention immediately.  
"Mary Hopkin?" I stammered. "Nurse Jocelyn, are you asking me to treat the sore throat of a singer?"  
"Not alone," she reasoned. "I'll have to accompany you, but I expect you to independently perform the examination and conclude the diagnosis."  
It was a nurse's responsibility to stay calm under pressure, but I felt a lump rise in my throat. My eyes darted back towards the page of information as I tried to ignore the fright of ruining someone's musical career. Unfortunately, the given address for the "house" call only garnered more terror.  
"Apple Corps headquarters? Must we really do the examination there?" I tried to stifle my groan with a tone of surprise which only showcased the awful hesitancy I was experiencing.  
"Yes and yes," nodded Jocelyn slowly. "They're filming a clip for a children's television program and require medical attention immediately. Mary Hopkin is scheduled to record a performance within the hour. We've got to head out now. A taxi is waiting out back. Come on now." I watched my superior coax me forwards with one slender finger, thrown over her shoulder, as she marched off. There was no time to question who "they" exactly entailed, or why I was chosen to examine someone in the public eye. It had only a month or two ago that I read the headline, "Young artist, first to sign on with Apple Records." What an honour it must be to sign with The Beatles' label...

A small medical bag was shoved into my arms as the junior charge nurse prodded me towards the exit.  
"Don't make her wait, Callie!"  
My feet picked up their pace and shuffled swiftly towards the door, the faux leather bag still clutched against my chest. I nearly ran to close the space between myself and the cab, then plopped in next to Nurse Jocelyn.  
"If you were working a shift in an ambulance, someone would be dead by now," she scolded, but as she turned her gaunt face towards the window, I saw her lips curve into a smirk. I pressed my tongue against my teeth and bit back a smile of my own as we drove towards our destination.

It wasn't a long drive to Saville Row. Our hospital and the streets of high-income offices seemed to coincide quite deliberately. A moment of panic struck me as the cab pulled to a stop, and I realized I had come ill-equipped and ill-prepared. As Nurse Jocelyn paid the fare, I quickly rummaged through the small medical bag which had been thrusted into my hands earlier. I breathed a sigh of relief as I checked off my mental list of necessary medical supplies. The junior charge nurse really saved my hide this time.

"Nurse Elling," sang Jocelyn. My head snapped towards her and I fumbled out of the cab. From her expression, I assumed she had called me once or twice already before grabbing my attention. I held back a grimace and darted to her side. "We'd better move quickly."  
"Of course," I smiled with a nervous waver, and the sound of our pristinely white shoes clicked up the sidewalk. The building was narrow, but stretched upwards towards the overcast sky. A few concrete steps led to a whitewash brick wall where a single door granted us entrance into a simple hallway.

"We're from Royal Brompton Hospital, here to see Miss Hopkin." I stood dutifully behind Nurse Jocelyn as she spoke, much like a small child in queue at a candy shop.  
"Studio three," beamed the young receptionist. We nodded our thanks and wandered down the hallway, glancing at the fleeting studio numbers.  
"Studio three!" I piped up. As I stretched my fist forwards to knock, Nurse Jocelyn wedged herself forwards and swung the door open. I followed, looking quite pink in the cheeks. Sometimes I wondered if I would ever have the pluck and confidence of a seasoned nurse. I rolled my shoulders back as we entered a maze of cameras, lights, and cords. My eyes flicked towards the set of which all equipment was pointed. There sat Mary Hopkin, staring out past the lights and rubbing her throat. She looked picture perfect which was even more intimidating in person than it was on a magazine. I pushed aside all my nerves, swallowed my fear, and approached her with a spring in my step.

"Good morning," I chirped as I felt my heart pounding.  
"Good morning!" She smiled, but I noticed her lips quiver at the corners.  
"You may want to avoid talking for a while if it pains you that much," I laughed under my breath and offered a sympathetic smile. Mary nodded and flashed a smile which mirrored mine.

As I began the examination, I felt Nurse Jocelyn's presence over my shoulder. I gripped each tool unnecessarily hard to prevent my hands from trembling. Although a few minutes in, I began to relax. Mary's friendly manner was soothing and my supervisor had no reason yet to step in. Within a few minutes, I had seen all I needed to come to my conclusion.

"Unfortunately, it's just a plain sore throat," I frowned apologetically, then paused, giving Nurse Jocelyn the opportunity to jump in and counter my diagnosis. "You'll want to keep your throat warm and avoid the chill outside, as often is possible. Gurgling salt water will help ease the pain, but there's not much more I can suggest. The best medicine for this kind of thing is to wait it out."  
Mary sighed, but nodded her understanding. I glanced over at Nurse Jocelyn who raised her eyebrows as she stuck her chin forwards. I looked at her dumbly until she mouthed, 'Get her water.' I nearly said, 'Oh!' out loud before I shut my jaw and turned back towards my patient with a smile.  
"I'll go get you some of that water." I rushed out of the studio and into the long hallway - that's when it occurred to me that I hadn't a clue where I might find salt, nonetheless a cup of water. A few important-looking people bustled past as I walked forward slowly, trying to look as if I belonged which was really a lost cause being that I was fully decked in hospital scrubs. I strolled further down the hallway, checking the signs nailed to each door. Every door I passed had me checking my watch. It had already been two minutes and I was still stumbling around. Nurse Jocelyn certainly wouldn't be impressed. I sighed quite loudly and tugged at my collar with my thin fingers.

"Need some help?" A kind, English-accented voice laughed softly behind me. Feeling more than a tad embarrassed, I turned slowly on my heel to face the helpful voice.

I felt my eyes widen.

"OH," I gasped. Standing before me was the gorgeous man I had only seen before on record sleeves and posters; Paul McCartney.  
"Oh?" He laughed. I giggled nervously and shook my head as I tried to regain some sort of commutative skills.  
"I meant, uh, oh! You're Paul McCartney... Fancy seeing you here...?" What the hell was that? I laughed again. My heart was doing a hell of a number on me. Was it possible to have a heart attack from feeling like an incompetent fool?  
"More of a fancy seeing you here than me, I'd think," he smiled with a wink. My heart started tap dancing right then, I swear.  
"Yeah... I suppose you're right," I laughed, once again, because apparently that's all I knew how to do. I straightened my face and an awkward silence fell.  
"What were-"  
"I shou-"  
We spoke simultaneously then fell back on our silence. Paul grinned. I, of course, laughed.  
"Permission to speak first?" He asked politely with a quick smile.  
"Granted."  
"You look lost."  
"I am," I admitted with a faint smile.  
"Well, if you're looking for a hospital, I'm afraid you're very off course." Paul smirked as he motioned to my scrubs. I laughed again, although this time it was genuine and not to simply fill the silence.  
"Imagine... A nurse who can't find a hospital," I clicked my tongue with a frown before my lips tugged across my florid skin.  
"Tragic," he frowned just as I did. Another silence. Although this time it didn't seem as strained...  
"So," I finally said, awkwardly. "Do you know where I might get a glass of water?"  
"'Course I do! Follow me!" Feeling as though Paul probably had much more important things to do, I grimaced quickly after he turned around, then followed behind him.

"I haven't caught your name yet," Paul said over his shoulder.  
"You haven't cast for it yet," I laughed. I heard Paul chuckle to himself, making me feel proud that I still had a small amount of wit about me.  
"I'm an awful fisherman. Well, here's your bait - What's your name, Nurse...?"  
"Nurse Elling," I smiled. "But you can call me Callie, if you'd like." Why the ever-loving hell did I add that last bit? I had flirted before and it sounded too much like that.  
"Alright, Callie, here's the kitchen." Paul swung the door open and waved me in with a gentlemanly smile.  
"Thank you so much for your help!"  
"Anytime, Callie," he replied softly, before swiveling back towards the hallway and striding off to blend into the crowd of busy figures. I found myself standing there for a moment in whimsicalness, just replaying how he had said my name. How charismatic smile was absent from his face, making him look serious and sincere, his smooth voice so soft...

I looked at my watch.

Ten minutes had gone by.

An embarrassed scoff had me bustling into action as I raided the cupboards and scoured for a salt shaker. Within a few moments I had the salt water in hand and began finding my way back to studio three, feeling like an idiot. In an odd way, I felt taken advantage of. Which was no fault of Paul's, not purposely, anyway. I just felt as if handsome men shouldn't be allowed to cause so much distraction.

As I expected, Nurse Jocelyn was constraining her irritation when I rushed back into the studio.  
"Ah. There she is," she spoke with a patronizing tone. I held back a grimace and presented the long-sought-after water to Mary.  
"Thank you," she croaked under her breath.  
"You're very welcome. You ought to take use of it right away. Gurgle for fifteen seconds and cycle until the glass is empty. It doesn't do well for the taste buds, but it gets the job done." I smiled my reassurance as she nodded and walked off with her temporary remedy.

"What took you so long, Nurse Elling?" Jocelyn hissed.  
"I've no idea where to find anything here. If it wasn't for the help I got I wouldn't have-"  
"Did you bother an employee to help you find water?" She sighed as she rubbed her temples with her dry hands.  
"No!" I said defensively, and a little too loudly. I hushed myself and continued, "Help was offered to me."  
"Well, alright. I suppose I understand your predicament, but I know how your mind wanders, Nurse. You must keep that in check."  
"Of course. I'll keep that in my mind," I mumbled. I heard her sigh again. I knew she despised mumbling, but it wasn't pleasant being scolded.  
"Good diagnosis work," she said quickly, then straightened her back with a faint smile. "Hold your head up, you silly girl."


	2. Chapter 2

After I jotted down the ratio of salt to water for Mary (or whoever's job it was to fetch her whatever she pleased), Nurse Jocelyn and I made our exit, careful not to disrupt any business. Admittedly, there was a silly hope I had been fueling that I might spot Paul once more before we left, but that flickered out once our cab drive off. I was feeling good. It would have been easy to completely botch this outing, but instead, I walked away with some impressive hands-on experience, and I met Paul... Ever since I had introduced myself to him, I'd been mentally referring to him as Paul. Just Paul. Lovely Paul. God, was it really that easy to get hooked? Although I suppose the process had started long ago when his voice first floated from the radio speakers. Funny thing was, I believed George to be my Beatle hero up until now - up until I saw Paul in the flesh. It got my heart pumping. It made me feel flustered and a little angry, really. How stupid was I to start building this little fantasy where Paul even remembers my existence once I'm out of sight? It's just a crush. A girly, childish, and awful crush. All crushes are awful. I wish I didn't believe in crushes. Perhaps then they may cease to exist. Then I wouldn't have to feel so giddy and heartbroken.

As much as I tried, I kept thinking about Paul as I finished my shift. I didn't tell a soul about meeting him, even though every nurse under twenty-five asked if I had spotted a Beatle. I nearly suggested they pick up a pair of binoculars and head out for safari themselves. And I would have said it too, if I hadn't been tempted to do the same thing. One of the many dreadful aspects of developing crushes is hiding them. I tried my best to slip out of the hospital and into my house with minimal questioning, but my mother's ears prick up at any sign of her children.

"Callie, dear! Why don't you come sit with me a while?" Before I had time to hang my jacket, she had already noticed, and identified, who made the quiet entrance at the door. I stifled my groan in the fear she may hear that too, and shuffled into the dining room. Mother was knitting, as she usually did. She had been convinced that knitting had a plethora of health benefits – curing arthritis, improving eye sight. You name it and knitting holds the cure. Although the catch was, she was awful at it. For the past two years all she's knitted is scarves. Bulky, unravelling scarves with loose loops which cold air breeze through to nip you on your exposed skin. I never said anything about it.

"How was your day?" Her eyes stayed focused on the yarn that lay before her. The knitting needles in her hands looked as though they were stabbing the wool rather than binding it together.  
"It was good…" For the next few minutes I told the very detailed story of my entire day at the hospital. The fact I was in training to become a nurse was a thrill for my mother. It was one of her ambitions when she was young, she'd told me. Until, of course, she met my father. Everything else wilted around her marriage and family. Which I'd never questioned until this past year. There were so many movements in support of utter freedom with the past couple of years that I couldn't help but to rethink a lot of things.  
"Mary Hopkin? Oh, I've heard of her! She's got a lovely voice."  
"Yes, yes, she does," I stammered while regaining my focus. My mind always went off on tangents when talking with my mother. I loved her, all right, but aside from being my mother, I wasn't really sure who she was. Boring seems too harsh a word, but plain may be suitable. Honestly, I didn't even know her favourite film or colour. We got along nicely for people who didn't know much about each other.

I sat around with Mum for a while to help untangle her yarn as she spoke of her ventures into couponing and fridge-shopping. The latter of which she was quite excited for. A particular model she had in mind was colder than ever and came in "mint sky!" I wasn't sure what a mint sky might look like, but it must be pretty splendid.

Of course, I didn't mention Paul. I couldn't do so naturally. I was embarrassed by this silly infatuation I had been building since our encounter and I couldn't mask it without blubbering around details and awkwardly brushing it off. There was no good way to speak of a crush. There never will be. Once I was exempt from small talk with Mum, I scurried up to my room. Being the mature 19-year-old I am, I swiped my diary from my shelf and scribbled down my imploding glee towards meeting a Beatle. As I did this, I played each Beatles album… only the songs which Paul sang. I had to allow George's compositions to float past the turntable as well. I was already feeling guilty that my admirations were being tossed from one bandmate to another.

A rowdy knock on the door shook my shoulders in surprise and I quickly chucked my diary under my bed. I knew precisely whose fist the knock belonged to.  
"Callie! Phone call for you!" My brother shouted through the closed door, most likely annoyed he had to fetch me. With a quiet groan, I took the needle off my record and ran downstairs.  
"You don't have to scream through my door everytime I get a call, Edgar." He looked up from his place on the couch with a scowl, but I picked up the phone before he could say a word. He despised his full name and insisted on going by Ed. This gave me the perfect material to badger him whenever I pleased.

"Hello?"  
"Callie! It's Arlene. Are you coming to study group tonight? I heard you're not working this evening and we'd love for you to come."  
"Just casually heard I had the night off, did you?" I teased. Arlene's aunt was one of the senior charge nurses at Royal Brompton and was constantly pestered for inside information.  
"Oh come on," she groaned with a girlish laugh. "Are you coming or not?"  
"Alright. I'll stop by... What else did you hear at the hospital today?"  
"That you met Paul McCartney."  
I paused and breathed into the receiver. "Oh."  
"Why are you acting so odd?" Arlene laughed again. "It's just a Beatle. I'd be rather flustered if I was meeting Mozart or Bach, but McCartney is just a man from a pop group. Honesty, Callie. Don't tell me you're one of those senseless Beatlemaniacs."  
"N-no," I stuttered. "Not senseless at all. You know what? Mother is calling for supper. I'll see you at seven."  
I promptly threw the phone back on its hook and hurried upstairs. I was definitely not hiding this well. I shouldn't have passed up the opportunity to take theater in school. Hopefully, Arlene wouldn't bring up my celebrity encounter tonight or else I'd the subject of unbearable teasing. The circle of friends I had were sweet girls, but their noses stuck up quite high. Perfect manners, educated diction, orchestrated music, and classic literature. A fun, high-spirited "pop group" from Liverpool certainly didn't adhere to these tastes. Even if they weren't too proud to give it a chance, they'd most likely be too conscious of others impressions to admit it. I retrieved the diary from underneath my bed with a newfound sluggishness, disheartened at the events of the past twenty-four hours. Unlikely thoughts of romance, friendly yet prudish friends, and a mother I could hardly talk with. Each struggle is bearable on its own, but these things have a tendency to pile up all at once. I slumped next to my turntable and carefully placed the needle back on the record, allowing Paul's voice to soar through my room, singing to me in a sooth voice.

"_I'll pretend that I'm kissing, the lips I am missing, and hope that my dreams will come true…"_


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you everyone for the kind reviews! They mean a lot and gave me the final push to finish up the next chapter. So here you are! I hope you enjoy it.**

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"Callie, clear the dishes from the table! It's almost six-thirty," mum hollered from the kitchen. I clattered each piece of china into a neat stack and dumped them into the cloudy water in the sink. Thankfully, my father had filled the silence of the dinner table with stories from work, and recalling the joke strips of this morning's paper. That left me to twiddle my thumbs and bounce my foot in nervous silence. I wasn't sure if I was still so caught up on Paul or if I was dreading facing my peers and their questions tonight.

"Mum, could I be excused? It's nice out and I thought I would walk to Arlene's." I asked hesitantly, examining her face as she considered my request.  
"Alright," she sighed. "Take a torch with you."  
"It's not even dark out yet."  
"Callie," she warned. "You're a young woman, you need to be safe. Either take your torch or take your brother."  
"Okay, mum. I'm taking the torch," I grumbled and grabbed my bag from the coat hook as I tried to simultaneously tug my jacket on. I glanced up to see my mother click her tongue at me before turning back to scrubbing the dishes. For a moment I felt sort of guilty for leaving her with the rest of cleaning up. Not so much because of the work load, there really wasn't much to do, but she didn't have anything _after this_. As soon as she cooked us all supper, her day was practically done. She'd probably go back to knitting after this, or watching variety shows on the television. I wondered sometimes if she was happy being a housewife. "See you, mum," I said quietly with a smile.  
"Have fun," she responded without looking up, and I slipped out the door.

I hadn't been lying to mother before, it really was wonderful out. The September air was just chilling enough to make my jacket feel snug, and the air fresh. The sun hadn't quite given up for the day and was peeping over the distance as the moon made its proud debut. I dug the torch out of my bag and shone it near the kitchen window, knowing my mother would be checking for it right about now. I smiled to myself a bit. The fresh air was having an instant rejuvenating effect on me, as it usually can. I started to stroll forwards, feeling some of my stress and nerves melt away into the sidewalk. The light from the torch swung its circular pattern between the road and the sidewalk and I watched it, dazedly. It would only be a few more minutes before I reached Arlene's place, but the idea of sitting in that stuffy house began to seem unbearable. On a whim, I quickly turned down an alley and emerged into a park – the opposite direction of Arlene's. My fingers gripped the torch a bit tighter as I noticed how empty the lot was. I made my way through the tall grass until I reached a playground at the end of the field. I slumped onto a roundabout and kicked at the dirt while I rotated slowly, gazing at the lonely streets before me. The lights were starting to come on, dimly illuminating the few strangers walking past. I sat in silence, tracing patterns into the dirt with my shoe as I rested my head against the handlebar. Suddenly, excited shrieks flooded into the park. I jumped up to look behind me. Five or six girls came running from the same alleyway from where I had emerged. They headed straight towards me and then leaped into the swings with loud, gleeful giggles. I adjusted the strap of my bag over my shoulder and began to walk away with a slow pace, hoping to go unnoticed.

"Hey, you!" One of them called. I flashed my eyes towards a young brunette girl who wore a friendly smile. "Do you like The Beatles?"  
I grinned at her question and responded with an assured, "Absolutely."  
She hopped over to me as her smile grew bigger, then clasped her hands onto mine. "Then you _must_ come with us."  
"Where are you going…?" I found myself laughing under my breath as I asked. Tonight's detour was having some very odd results so far.  
"Savile Row! We're going to wait for the boys to come out of the studio! We've done it before and they love seeing us. They always stop to say hi. You'll see. Just come with us!" My heart started to race as she spoke fervently and by the time she had finished talking, I found myself smiling absentmindedly.  
"That sounds really brilliant, but I-"  
"There are no 'buts'! If you want to come, just come." The girl's face became somber and her eyes locked with mine.  
"I'll go," I nodded. There was something about tonight and the chance of coming across this group of fans that made this invitation irresistible. Soon, I was swept into their excitable group and six different names were tossed forwards with grins and giggles. From their chatter, I deduced that I was one of the oldest ones within the group. Although Stephanie, the brunette that convinced me to come along, was only a few months shy of nineteen. One of the youngest was fifteen and kept tittering about how furious her mother would be once she returned home. I felt out of the loop and out of place, but I kept laughing at their conversation and bursting energy. The giddiness of the night overthrew my hesitancies and I walked with ease with them towards Apple Corps.

As we approached the gates, the two younger girls started bouncing as they skipped towards the building, as the rest of us hung back. Once we stood in front of the building I had visited mere hours ago, my enthusiasm started to disintegrate a bit.  
"Now what do we do…?" I asked as I stared at the tall building.  
"We wait!" Stephanie responded happily, then settled down on the steps as if she intended to stay there all night.  
"For how long?" I felt my nose scrunch up as I witnessed the other girls make themselves comfortable around the entrance.  
"However long it takes, Callie. Don't worry about it." Stephanie's voice was calm and serene, her friendly smile audible in her tone. I shrugged and joined her on the cold, concrete steps.  
"So how do you pass the time?"  
"Talking about The Beatles," Pamela giggled. Her strawberry blonde hair flooded down her back and brushed against the sidewalk as it swished back and forth during conversation with all of us. Pamela was seventeen, a piece of information that was confidential if any Beatle ever asked. As she talked, she fluttered her eyelashes and kept her mouth agape to reveal her pearly white teeth, two of which stuck out at an unfortunate angle. With or without slightly crooked teeth, she was very conventionally pretty. Glowing skin, soft hair, and a quaint nose. The problem I had with Pam, though, was she knew how beautiful she was. Every toss of her hair was photoshoot-worthy and every laugh was intentionally dainty. Also, she called everyone dear as she rested her slim hand on their shoulder which was unreasonably grating on my nerves. Deborah, the youngest of the group, had thick, short hair which curled against her neck. It bobbed up and down as she nodded in agreement.  
"Who's your favourite Beatle, Callie?" she asked.

"Paul," I sighed.  
"Oh, she's smitten!" Stephanie laughed as she swung her arm around me. I caved my shoulders in as I laughed awkwardly. They weren't wrong. I saw Pamela roll her eyes quickly and snicker under her breath.  
"Who's your favourite Beatle, Pamela?" I straightened my back and looked at her intently, already knowing the answer to my question.  
"Paul," she replied with just as much intensity. I broke the tension with a smile.  
"Good choice." Pamela simply responded with a smile that resembled a grimace and swished her hair dramatically as she turned away from me.

"The door is opening!" Deborah suddenly leapt from the stairs with a scream as her fingers flew to tug at her hair. I jumped as well, more for the sake of fright than excitement. The other younger girls started to tear up as Stephanie, Pamela, and I stood silently – Steph and Pam smiling sweetly as their eyes sparkled. Suddenly, my heart began to beat quickly. What would Paul think if he saw me hanging around his office? As the girls stared at the door, I took a few quiet steps back.  
"Callie! Come closer!" Stephanie tried to coax me forwards, but another scream from Deb had her head whipped towards the direction of the door where George Harrison emerged. He nodded once at his squirming fans, stopping to sign a couple of their pictures and uttering polite conversation under his breath before ducking away to his car. I simply stood and looked on with my mouth agape. He had walked right past me and I caught a whiff of the cigarette which hung from his mouth. It was shocking to see a Beatle who was so _real_. Now that the girls were glued to the front steps, I turned away to make my exit – only to turn towards a new group of girls who were racing up the sidewalk. I nearly had to run backwards to prevent being trampled. I checked my watch. It was nearly eight thirty. Didn't these girls have homework, or parents to return to? They seemed awfully determined to catch a sight of The Beatles. I tugged at the hem of my coat, wondering how I might sneak off back home.

"Paul!" A scream announced his arrival and I glanced upwards to see him stride out the door, smiling and chatting with the over enthused fans. My fingers clenched against my palm and I twirled on my heel, desperately looking for a way to stay out of sight. As Paul made his way down the stairs, I was nearly in a panic – only to be pushed forwards by the zealous fan behind me. I was probably looking very bewildered when I caught Paul's eye. His smile fell for a moment and he squinted before speaking in that velvety voice of his.  
"I believe we've met," he said slowly, as his smile returned. "Nurse Elling. But you preferred to be called…?"  
I bit down on my tongue for a moment in attempt to avoid stammering like an idiot while all eyes were on me. "Callie," I replied in a near whisper.  
"Callie," he repeated with a smirk. "You did a bang up job with Mary. She's convinced you're the best nurse in town."  
I laughed, cutting it short as I remembered all the silly laughing I had done earlier in the afternoon. "Well, nurse in training." I almost felt at ease as I chatted with Paul, but I was reminded of all the young girls' eyes marveling at the situation before them.  
"Best nurse in training, then," he grinned.  
"That's more like it," I said, mirroring his smile. There was a short silence before a girl burst forth pleading for his autograph. Suddenly, I felt embarrassed about the attention I received from Paul. I started to turn to make my way past the crowd, but Paul's voice rose once again.  
"Callie!" I felt all the heat in my body rush to my cheeks and I peered over my shoulder to make eye contact with his brown, puppy eyes. "See you around." My lips stretched into a wide smile, and I simply nodded before squeezing through the crowd as my mind ran rampant.


	4. Chapter 4

**My regular thank you's to all of you who review this story! I get unbelievably excited when I get a new review! :D Also, happy birthday to our dearest George! Read, review, and enjoy. :]**

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It was nearly nine o'clock when I finally got back to my neighbourhood. Instead of heading straight home, I walked up to Arlene's house, in the hopes I might convince her to keep my absence a secret. The lights were out. I sighed, watching my breath mix with the cold air into a smoky substance and float off. I shuffled my feet before sluggishly turning towards home. The torch which had been all but shoved into my hands was now coming in handy as it lit the dark path before me. Mother would know that study group wouldn't last this long – even if it had, Arlene's dad usually drove all us girls home afterwards in his second-hand Camaro which was always polished to perfection. With my luck, mother would have called Arlene's already to discover I'd never shown up. My teeth started to grind as I nervously stepped up to the front door. Once again, I was sneaking in as quietly as I could manage.

"Is that you, Callie?" My father called from my parlor. I heard the television buzzing with the sound of a newscaster's voice.  
"Yeah, it's me." The television clicked off and my father walked into the hallway.  
"Good! Mum said I had to wait up for you. I'm off to bed then. 'Night, love." He wrapped his arm around me with a kiss on the head, then turned for the staircase. I tried to keep my face straight though I felt my eyebrows crinkle slightly.  
"Did Arlene call…?"  
"No," replied dad slowly, beginning to look a tad confused like I was. "Mum just talked with her a couple minutes ago, though. Are you expecting her to call?"  
"Oh, well, no. Not really." I forced a smile as natural-looking as I could manage. "Goodnight!" I widened my grin then skipped off to the kitchen. If Arlene had told the truth when asked about my attendance, I would be midway through a scolding right now.  
I helped myself to some tea warming on the stove, watching the amber water trickle into my cup as the smell of peppermint floated towards me. I breathed a deep sigh then took a slow sip from my mug. I felt a bit shaken. Not only did I have another encounter with Paul, but I very narrowly escaped severe punishment. I had to go into the college for class tomorrow morning where I'd have the chance to chat with Arlene and get some answers. Until then, I thought it best to sleep off the exhausting day I'd had. I couldn't recall the last time I had a Monday which was so packed with excitement. I finished off my tea and drowsily slipped into my nightgown to snuggle into bed.

Although, as my head fell against the pillow, my mind went ablaze, replaying my encounter with Paul over and over again. Each time I became more aware of the awful sound of my embarrassed giggle, or tore myself apart about not saying more. I did this until I was wide awake, staring at my ceiling and mentally yelling at myself. I curled my knees against my chest with a groan, another sigh, and squeezed my eyes shut. It didn't even seem like reality to be lamenting over interacting with Paul McCartney. I had imagined meeting all the boys at some point or the other - I'd think about what I might say, what they would say, if they would sign my albums... Never did I think it would actually happen. Deep down I always had this impending sense of reality in which I would live my life void of meeting my musical idols. But that was obviously quite silly. Not only because Paul now knew my name, but because the entire group had been spending the majority of their time in London - they'd even relocated to the lively city, or within its outskirts. Maybe if I expected this outcome, I'd be better prepared. It was these thoughts which clamored inside my head, pinging off the walls until, finally, they grew lethargic with repetitive exhaustion and I drifted off.

The morning was welcome, aside from the buzzing alarm clock which always seemed to go off too early every day. As I sorted through my closet and gathered together my books, I hardly thought of last night at all. I happily made my way to the bus, smiling pleasantly at the ticket master before boarding. The wheels moved slowly towards the school and as soon as the doors opened, I strode towards the school, almost running to shove my things into a locker. I needed to find Arlene. Once my books had been more or less crammed into a thin cubby, I set my sights for the left wing where most education degree classes were held. Arlene was studying to become a grade school teacher. It was befitting to her personality - motherly, strict yet aware and patient. Hopefully none of these traits conflicted with white lies.

I spotted her in the main library, her signature headband was pinned against her brunette hair in an uncommonly flat style. I wondered sometimes if the look was intentional, or perhaps she just lacked the talent and patience to pull off a bouffant.  
"Arlene!" I whispered through my teeth. She looked up, but her expression remained unchanged which didn't strike me as a good sign.  
"I suppose you want to talk about last night?" I tightened my lips and frowned apologetically.  
"I'm really sorry, Arlene. I wanted to come," Lie. "But I got side-tracked and-"  
"Side tracked with what?" Arlene interrupted.  
"I don't think it'd be in my best interest to tell you," I responded with an uncomfortable grin.  
"It wasn't in my best interest to lie to your mom."  
"Arlene, I'm sorry! I-"  
"But you never seem to come to study group anymore! Ever since we majored off into different subjects, it's as if we never see each other." Arlene's eyes fell to the textbook on the desk and her fingers trailed listlessly across the pages. I felt pretty guilty at this point, although she usually managed to play our friendship off as something more meaningful than it really was. We'd never been sorority sisters or anything. We just got along in middle school and stuck out high school together. If our friendship hadn't been so convenient, I doubt it would have blossomed at all.  
"I know," I sighed. Despite getting frustrated with her uppity ideologies from time to time, I honestly did have a soft spot for Arlene. A friend was a friend, after all. "How about you and me get together this weekend, all right? This Saturday. We can go to the cinema, or wherever you'd like." Arlene's eyes still trailed across her book, but I caught a glimpse of a smile. After a short moment of thick silence, she looked up.  
"Aren't you going to tell me what happened last night?"  
"Well, I was headed towards your place, and I was fully decided on that destination when I headed out, I promise, but-" Just before I would've had to admit a grassy field had been favoured to her dull household, the bell rang shrilly across the halls. "I'll explain later! I've got class." I scooted out of my chair and rushed towards the other end of school. I barely made it in time to trail in behind the last few attendees.

I only had classes three days a week now. The other two days were hospital correspondence for on-site training. Those were the days I looked forward to the most. I couldn't wait to leave the textbooks behind me and delve into the world of hands-on nursing. The class drawled on as I absentmindedly scribbled down notes, letting the pen glide farther up the page than necessary - creating long figured cursive about inserting IV's. During lunch, I was able to catch up with Arlene again. I explained the situation from last night, leaving out as many details as I possibly could. Arlene still rolled her eyes through my story and when I was finished, she ranted about the senseless fans which uplifted the insane Beatlemania movement. I was thankful when she finally changed the topic.  
"I have to pick up something from Auntie after school. Do you want to tag along?" Arlene asked as she munched on a soggy cafeteria crisp.  
"This would be at the hospital I'm assuming?" She nodded. "Yeah, all right. I'll go." It would be pathetic to say it aloud, but I'd visit that hospital any chance I get. The energy there was invigorating. Everyone was working for the same meaningful goal - healing people. Bringing them back around to their rosy-tinted, plump selves. There was no better place for an aspiring nurse than a well-oiled hospital.

Two o'clock finally rolled around, and I met Arlene on the bus. She did most of the talking on the way to Brompton, as she usually did. It wasn't that I didn't have much to say, it was just that she wouldn't listen. People like Arlene just wanted to talk about the people they knew and the things everyone was doing, which was fine for most people. I, in the other hand, usually had an aversion to small talk. There came a certain point where I could not bring myself to discuss new fashions or changing weather.  
"...And besides, I don't even know why she's taking the class if she doesn't take it seriously. Oh! We're here! My, that was fast." I had only snapped out of my own head to catch the tail end of Arlene's rant. My guess was she'd been discussing her rival classmate who didn't put in much effort, but often reaped a harvest of excellent grades which challenged Arlene's own. This was a great catastrophe, naturally, and I had been hearing about it since the beginning of the term. We walked side by side into the building, passing the receptionist with a nod. We were both well-known faces around here so registering as guests would be a tedious and pointless task by now. I followed Arlene towards her the nurse quarters' locker room. It was empty at first glance.  
"Where is Aunt Tammy?" Arlene huffed. From behind the corner, Nurse Jocelyn appeared with a calm reply.  
"She's finishing rounds in I.C.U. You should be able to find her at the desk."  
"Oh, thank you," Arlene replied with a sheepish smile the turned towards me. "Are you all right to wait for a second?"  
"'Course. Go ahead."  
"Be right back!" Arlene was already edging towards door when she asked for my assurance, and soon she was sprinting down the hallway.  
"When will that child learn not to run in the halls?" Nurse Jocelyn muttered as she neatly arranged the contents of her locker. I laughed under my breath then took a seat on the bench. "I've got a note for you."  
"From who?" I looked up at her with a puzzled expression. Jocelyn slipped a letter from the shelf and presented it to me with an impatient click of her heel. As I wrangled it open, she responded.  
"Mary Hopkin. I suppose she took a liking to you." I glanced up with another confounded look. Nurse Jocelyn smoothed her hair back into her usual tight bun, not bothering to make eye contact. I turned back to the letter for my answers.

'Dear Callie,

That remedy you gave me worked like a charm and I was so grateful for your genuine hospitality. I'm having a small bash in honour of the upcoming release of my single, "Those Were The Days." I've been told I should round up as many guests as I can to listen to a sneak peek of the record! I'd be honoured if you would join me September 13th, 7pm at 3 Savile Row for this exciting milestone!

Sincerely,  
Mary Hopkin'

I giggled as I felt an excited warmth explode in my stomach. "She's invited me to her single release party!" I stammered through a grin.  
"That was a nice gesture." The collected nurse closed her locker and offered a smile. "I'm off for rounds now. You did a good job with Miss Hopkin. Remember this next time you're working with a patient. Confidence is key, and humility is the doorknob."  
I nodded as I bit back a smile, trying to convey solemnity towards Nurse Jocelyn's advice. She shook her head slightly and turned to face me once more as she stood in the doorway. She didn't say anything, but she gazed at me for a split second before disappearing down the hall. I had known Nurse Jocelyn for a little over a year now, but I still couldn't decide what she honestly thought of me. I could only hope she had half the respect for that I had for her.

Once Arlene returned with the forms she had set out for, I showed her the letter and, perhaps foolishly, invited her to come along. With a dubious "perhaps," we journeyed back on the bus towards home without mentioning it again. Although all the way back, my toes were squirming in my shoes. This recognition was my proudest moment in nursing so far, and I'd be able to make acquaintance with a patient - at a release party - at the Beatles' head office! As soon as that thought crossed my mind, I went still. _Paul_. Again. Would he be there? How many times could I possibly run into him by coincidence? My mind uttered, 'hopefully a lot,' but I already felt my nerves kicking in, merely at the thought of it. Hopefully Arlene would accept the invitation and keep me level headed throughout the night. That is, if my mother and father even granted me permission to go.

I bid Arlene adieu and anxiously waited for my stop. I rushed home to fling my things at the front door and locate my mum. As I expected, she was prepping dinner in the kitchen.  
"Mum! Mary Hopkin's invited me to her single release celebration!" I conveniently avoided the word choice of 'party.'  
"What? When? Why?" She looked up bewildered from her place at the sink. Her hands were slimy from the raw hamburger in her hands which were being shaped for her classic meatballs and sauce dinner. I bit back a laugh at the sight.  
"September 13th, seven o'clock. Because she liked me, I suppose." I was grinning ear to ear, but mum still look horrifically confused.  
"Can you find your father and we'll talk this over?"  
About half an hour later, after mum had worried and dad had reassured her about a hundred times, I was finally given their blessing to attend. The ultimatum being I wouldn't stay late or get into any trouble. Dad would pick me and drop me off - no rides from strangers, no more than one drink, call if anything goes wrong, etc... The only thing that stuck in my mind was the yes. I scrambled upstairs with my bag and dug my journal out from under my mattress, wildly scribbling in my excitement. What better dream than to be involved in the music scene? Perhaps I'd hear some new stories, meet some of the studio musicians. Maybe I'd see Paul... I tried to shake the thought off. I wasn't going to allow any male be the axis of my social life. I was going because Mary asked me to. No ulterior motives. At least, I had convinced myself otherwise.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry if some of the verbs are repetitive, or sentences are awkward. I finished this up kind of late so I didn't take the time to proofread. Haha! Oh well. I still like how it turned out and I hope you do too! Read, review, and enjoy! :)_

* * *

It was odd. For the following week, ninety-percent of my mind capacity was spent obsessing over Mary's release party, but when it came up around the bend, it came much too fast. I was spending the Friday afternoon within the confines of the hospital. Most days, I wouldn't refer to Royal Brompton as a confine, but it certainly felt like it as I replayed several scenarios of the party in my head, whether they were possible or not. Perhaps too many of those scenarios involved Paul…

"Callie? _Callie!_" I snapped my head up towards one of my classmates, Frieda, who was waving her hand impatiently.  
"Oh, sorry," I mumbled.  
"We're learning catheters with Nurse Jocelyn in five minutes."  
"Right! Thanks for the reminder." I smiled slowly, awkwardly, waiting for Frieda to take on a stance which was not so expectant and belittling. She didn't.  
"The class is on the opposite wing of the hospital," she snapped.  
"_Oh!_" Immediately, I hoisted myself up from my chair and reached for my notebook with my fingertips as I scuttled past the counter. As soon as I looped the binding around my pinky finger, I went flying down the hall, leaving Frieda to scoff behind me as she quickened her pace. I had barely made it in time which wasn't the first offense of the class. Not only could I not focus, but I had "come to war empty-handed" upon discovering I'd forgotten my pen. The rest of my time at the hospital seemed to switch between droning on and throttling forwards. It depended on my nerves. When I finished my repetitive duties of nasty clean-up work, it was 4:30 and my nerves were having nerves of their own. Almost all of them fretting over the possible attendance of one certain musician. I couldn't decide whether it'd be better for him to show up, or not even be mentioned at all the entire evening. Deep down I knew exactly which outcome I preferred.

I spent hours getting ready. From the time I arrived home to the time my father was starting the car, I had been glaring at my reflection, squinting over my dress for wrinkles, pouting my lips up to the light to check my lipstick, and poking at my hair for tests of durability. My father's holler from downstairs was my saving grace, and I spun my desktop mirror to swivel away. I had seen quite enough of myself. Hopefully we wouldn't be passing any especially reflective windows on the way to Savile Row because I don't think I could stand obsessing over my appearance for one more second.

"Look at my young lady!" Mother sighed as I transcended the staircase, feeling a bit grand and a bit queasy. I settled my chin into the collar of my dress and laughed in the absence of words. "Don't be embarrassed, Callie. Stand up straight. You look lovely." A genuine smile caught my lips and I took her advice, glancing up to see her misty eyed.  
"Oh, mummy, it's a dress! It's not my wedding day or anything…" I grumbled. Somehow the mention of 'wedding' and 'my' in the same sentence put a catch in her throat and she made a little squeak as if she was swallowing a long speech about my days as 'her little girl.' I looked towards my dad for a bit of relief. He was standing with a smirk, then nodded in my direction.  
"Alright, alright, waterworks, I'd better get our gal to this fancy party, huh?" He winked at me and I grinned. My father was the perfect counterpart for my mother. His sensibility and humour scaled perfectly to her sensitively-triggered emotion, and mundaneness. Despite my lack of understanding for my mother, I pranced down the stairs and her pulled her into a tight hug.  
"Love you, mummy. I'll be home soon!" I gave her a kiss on the cheek and a reassuring smile before being waved out the door by dad.

On the way to Apple Corps, father stayed somewhat silent which was uncharacteristic of him. I flicked my eyes between him and the road, trying to query as to what he was thinking. Finally, I gave up and asked outright.  
"Why so silent? I thought you'd have cooked up a good list of jokes for an occasion like this," I laughed.  
"Oh sure, I've always got a gutbuster tucked away," he smirked. "You know, I am just thinking about the nature of this celebration…"  
"Dad," I groaned. "We went over this a million times. I understand all of the rules and that they're just there to protect me and-"  
"You're very good at reciting, Callie, but just be aware that these people are in a different point in their lives than you are. They're older than you, reaching their career peaks…"  
"Dad, Mary is eighteen."  
"Is she really?" He broke his eyes off the road for a moment to gape at me. "Well! Is that so? What a wonderful opportunity for a young girl, eh? Good for her. Yes, good for Mary." He muttered off as he shook his head, and I saw his shoulders relax.  
"What? The scolding's all finished now that you've learned Mary's my age?" I teased.  
"Well, it puts me at ease. It really does. These record people must have to make sure two young ladies don't find themselves in any compromising situations." Father nodded again. I wasn't quite sure if I knew what he meant and I wondered if he thought the same thing, but I bit my tongue. Hopefully this meant I wouldn't have to return from a nice evening to a barrage of questions, interrogation-style. We went around the last bend and the building came into sight. As soon as I spotted that great big door, my heart began palpitating – thankfully not with fear, but with excitement. I was thrilled to be invited, and to chat with Mary once more. Maybe she'd tell me stories about recording her single, or I could meet one of the composers… Once I stepped through that door, I'd be submerged into the music scene. My toes began tapping against the floor of the car.

"Would you like to tuck and roll, or can you wait for me to park?" Dad teased with a chuckle. I grinned sheepishly and peered out the window.  
"Arlene didn't call, did she?" I asked. Once I had received my invitation to this event, I had extended it to her as well, but she had neither confirmed nor declined it.  
"Nope. No call." I stifled any other questions as my dad parked behind a small Buggy, looking focused with his mouth agape, as he always appeared when parallel parking. With a sigh, he put on the parking break and looked at me. "Well. Here we are. You'd better head inside."  
"Alright," I smiled and reached for the door handle. "Thanks for the ride, dad."  
"Remember! Ten o'clock! No later!"  
"And no sooner," I countered with a grin. Before he could shake his head, I flung the door shut and pranced up the steps to Apple. I pressed my palms into the pleats of my dress. It was a deep plum colour, with a flare at the hem. The neckline scooped down from a flat collar, followed by brass buttons and a waist tie. Per my mother's request, I wore nylons underneath, and suede strap heels. I tugged at the skirt before stepping inside where the party was already in full swing. Music was blasting from a PA and groups of people had settled into every available nook of the hallway, sharing drinks and laughing, red-faced and loud. I quickly shut the door behind me, severely hoping my father didn't catch a peek inside. My eyebrows knitted together and I carefully stepped forwards, ducking out of the way of serving trays and swinging bottles.

"Callie!" A voice gleefully called from the other side of the room, but I couldn't spot the face it belonged to. "Callie!" It repeated and finally, Mary emerged from behind a large, well-dressed man who seemed blatantly unaware of his surroundings.  
"Mary! Hi!" I laughed my relief at seeing a familiar face. "This is…not what I expected." I gestured to the excitement surrounding us with another laugh.  
"I know," she shrugged. "But it's so exciting! They're all here to hear my record! I'm so glad you came!" I smiled widely at her enthusing response. I hadn't a clue why she was so fascinated with my company, but I was thrilled.  
"I'm glad I came too!" I shouted over the music.  
"Come on, let's grab a drink!" She grabbed my hand and tugged me past the crowds and into a large room. Studio equipment was pushed to the side, and a makeshift bar was settled over a wall of amps that were balanced precariously over each other. Mary confidently ordered up a couple of drinks with titles I didn't recognize and soon a fruity-tasting drink was in my hand and down the hatchet with a burning aftertaste.  
"Wow," I coughed. "That's…something else…"  
"It tastes awful going down, but you'll grow accustomed to it. They're really a great drink, though!" Mary reassured as she floated her eyes over the crowd. "Oh, follow me! There's some people I'd like you to meet!" I nodded, wide-eyed, in response before I was whisked off once more.

We made our rounds between all sorts of company – musicians, family friends, press, and studio bigwigs. By the end of all the introductions, I may have exceeded the one-drink-limit I had promised to and was feeling light and giggly. Once all of the introductions were out of the way, Mary led me straight towards the dance floor. It was lovely, the way she danced. Her arms swayed back and forth with very small movement, but every other beat, she'd spin on her heel with a warm laugh. As she twirled, her dress blossomed out; it was like watching a spring's flower petals unfurl to the sun, and I found myself watching her spins with an entertained stare. Then she'd stop suddenly in front of me, grab my hands and sway us back and forth as we made up spins and slides of our own. My heart was beating out of my chest and soon I was red-faced and laughing loudly like everyone else in the room.

"I need… a drink," I stuttered as I tried to catch my breath.  
"Go on! I'll be here," Mary grinned as she continued to burn a hole in her heels. I stumbled backwards off the dance floor, watching her dance with relentless energy. I was laughing under my breath as I skipped over to the amp bar.  
"A water please," I smiled. I leaned against the wall with a sigh and smoothed my frizzy hair with my fingers.  
"Here's your water." A glass cup was being held in front of me, but the voice didn't match the bartender I had ordered from. I followed the glass up towards a friendly face wearing a grin. _Paul_. "Fancy seeing you here, eh?" He laughed and I recalled our first conversation. I nodded, biting down on my embarrassed smile.  
"Are you filling the position of waiter tonight?" I teased as I graciously took my water from his hands. My fingers brushed up against his for a moment and I felt my heart skip a beat. How could I possibly hold myself together in front of him? I shifted my weight onto my other foot and tried to focus.  
"Oh no, no." Paul shook his head. "I'm a waiter every night. Always waiting for something." He paused until I started to laugh, then he relaxed his shoulders with a wink. "I'm glad you've come tonight."  
"Oh?"  
"Of course! It's great to see Mary getting support from everyone. Her record turned out splendidly."  
"Yeah-yes. Right," I nodded dumbly. For some reason, my mind had jumped to the conclusion _he_ was glad to see me. Silly.  
"Care to dance? You were really ripping it up earlier, I want to try you out." He smiled at me and my expression dropped. I cleared my throat and forced a pleasant smile onto my lips.  
"It'd be my pleasure," I replied as I set down my water. Paul took my hand in his and led me towards the music. Just as we stepped on the outskirts of the crowd, the song faded and a new one begun – with a slow tempo and soft vocals. I felt myself blush and my eyes fell to my shoes.  
"Problem?"  
"Ah, no. Not at all." I looked up at him as I took a deep breath. There really wasn't a problem at all. This all felt like a dream. Paul smiled and wrapped his arm around my waist. His fingers slipped around mine and he began to sway us both back and forth. "So you're a nursing student you said?"  
"Yes. That's right." I bit back another smile. He remembered. "I'm in my second year."  
"That's wonderful," he said with a wide smile. "My mum was a nurse."  
I nearly said, 'I know' before realizing that I really _shouldn't_ know that. "She must have been a tough lady. It's a hard job."  
"She was. She was brilliant." Paul looked over my shoulder and nodded slowly before clearing his throat and meeting my gaze once more. "So, do you hang around the front steps often, or is it just a casual hobby?" I laughed as the blood rushed to my cheeks again and, undoubtedly, not for the last time this night.  
"No, no. I'd never even been to Apple before the hospital called me in. I promise," I grimaced with a silly-sounding giggle. "I just got…caught up by those girls' excitement, I suppose. That kind of enthusiasm is hard to find once you turn eighteen and enter the real world." I laughed again, trying to cover up the sappy-sounding truth I'd spoken.  
"I agree," he replied, sounding very genuine. There was something about his tone that made me feel I'd broken through that first layer of polite social interaction. "That's the thing I love about music. The sounds, the voices, the fans – everyone's got to have passion or else it doesn't work. Everyone says sex sells, but that's really not the case, I don't think. It's just passion, really. You've got to hear it through the record." Paul's eyes lit up as he spoke and I'm sure my eyes mirrored his to a tee. I felt like a fresh gust of wind had blown into the room.  
"Exactly! You've got to stay excited, and that's what you hear in the records of great artists. Everyone is so busy trying to be adults they forget the brilliancy in being a child. Rock and roll musicians have the maturity to be immature – to tinker around with a xylophone for an hour to get a great sound, or dream about success for years on end until they finally achieve it."  
"That's it!" Paul grinned and I felt his grip tighten around my waist as his expression grew more excited. I laughed, feeling a bubbly feeling in my stomach. We were making a connection. I'd never been able to connect with someone over music like this before. Immediately, it put me at ease. Finding this connection made him less _Paul McCartney_ and more of just _Paul_. "You want to get some fresh air?" He nodded towards the door and I agreed. He grabbed my hand and snaked us through the crowd.

"Callie?" A voice hollered over from the door. I turned around to see Arlene headed towards me. Without noticing, I groaned under my breath. "Callie, where are you going…?" She lowered her chin, and stared at Paul for a moment before widening her eyes at me.  
"Just outside for a moment." I frowned at her quickly, trying to get her to sod off. "I'll be back in a second and we'll get a drink, okay?"  
"Callie, I don't drink." Arlene looked horrified and I could already imagine the speech she was stitching together for my parents.  
"I meant, you know, a soda or something," I sighed, trying not to roll my eyes.  
"Don't worry about it, love," Paul interjected. "I've got some people I should meet up with. I'll catch up with you later." He waved quickly to Arlene then ducked out into the crowd. I opened my mouth to stop him, but he left quickly. I turned to Arlene with my eyebrows furrowed.  
"What are you doing?" I snapped.  
"_Me? _What are _you_ doing?" She shook her head at me, looking bewildered and offended.  
"That was Paul McCartney!" It was the moment I almost stamped my foot that I realized I was acting childish – and not in the good way. "Arlene, listen, I'm glad you've come. Let's go get a water or something…" She just rolled her eyes and followed me, arms crossed, towards the bar. I consciously ordered a Coke, knowing that alcohol was off limits in the presence of Arlene. For the next half hour, I listened patiently as she told me all about her day which was, honestly, nothing I hadn't heard before. School, studying, going to the market with her mother where she was convinced the cashier was making eyes at her. This was followed by her rant about how she didn't have time to date right now. Her future was much more important than a boy… I figured out the rhythm between the lights changing colour, and fished out the people on the dancefloor that were dancing only because they were inebriated. I hardly noticed when she finished talking.  
"I have to use the restroom," she whispered.  
"Oh, it's down the hall on the right, I think. Listen, I'm going outside for a minute, alright? It's just loud in here, I need a break. Back in fifteen," I smiled assuredly at her then bolted out before she could argue. I squirmed my way through the partygoers and found the backdoor. The evening air hit me, welcome and fresh. It was followed by the smell of cheap cigarettes and I coughed my way forwards before I reached untainted London air. I settled down in the grass with a smile and closed my eyes as I took a slow, deep breath.

A few minutes later, I heard someone sit beside me. I bit my lip, knowing I'd open my eyes to a bug-eyed Arlene, begging to head home. I opened my eyes and turned my head, feeling disappointed.  
"Enjoying the night?" Paul asked. I grinned in relief and nodded vigorously.  
"Oh yes. The party is excellent, the people are excellent…and it's still warm out even though it's dark. I love nights like this." I smiled complacently and looked over at him. He was silent as he smiled at me. "What is it?" I laughed, feeling self-conscious.  
"Ah, nothing." Paul paused again. "How old did you say you were?" I clenched my jaw and widened my eyes quickly.  
"Nineteen…"  
"Perfect," he said. I averted my eyes quickly and tucked my feet back. Paul leaned forward. "I was just kidding," he whispered.  
"Oh!" I laughed and clapped my hand over my face. "Thank god…"  
"I have better manners than that!" He chuckled. "I mean, you ought to tell a girl she's lovely beforehand, I think. Take her out for the night, show her a good time. Then kiss her in the doorway." I glanced up to see Paul had become straight-faced. I swallowed.  
"Yeah, I suppose that sounds right."  
"Callie?"  
"Yes?"  
"I happen to think you're lovely?"  
"Really?" Without my permission, an uncomfortable giggle escaped my lips.  
"Don't laugh. I mean it."  
"Sorry."  
"You don't have to apologize," he smiled.  
"Sor-okay." I grinned as I held his gaze. My heart and head were thumping. My chest felt like it weighed a ton.  
"Would you still think I have good manners if I skipped two?"  
"What?" I said quietly.  
"Step two – taking you out for the night."  
"No – I mean, I wouldn't mind." I shook my head. His eyes twinkled, lit by the moon in the cheesiest way possible. Paul leaned closer, a lock of his soft brown hair falling over his eye. It was a natural reaction – without thinking, I reached up and brushed his hair aside. We both paused. My fingers were still settled in his hair. He leaned forwards, staying still for a mere second as his nose brushed against mine, before diving in for a gentle kiss. My hand slipped down to his neck and his arms tugged my closer. I could taste a bit of liquor on his lips, not having the attention span at the moment to worry about how that factored into our kiss. He kissed like we had all the time in the world – he had all the time in the world to do it right, but from how I felt, he already was. It was perfect, the way his lips melted around mine and his fingertips brushed against my arm. We pulled away, both of us sighing and resting our heads on the other's.  
"I feel like I should say thank you," I laughed under my breath. Paul grinned.  
"Oh, you're more than welcome." I smiled and bit my cheek as I studied his eyes.  
"I like your eyes." I said it quietly, feeling very idiotic and young.  
"I like you."  
"I like you too."  
"See? Childish _is_ good." Paul cupped my chin in his hands and kissed me once more, quickly, but just as soft. In the distance I heard a loud voice announce the time to another. I jumped up, startling Paul.  
"Oh, I am so, so sorry, but I have to go." I stepped towards the door before turning back, slamming my wrist against my forehead. "I'm sorry," I repeated. "I had a lovely evening. And I love Mary's EP and I'm so glad I ran into you again."  
"Me too. I'll see you again, Nurse Elling." The corners of my lips turned upwards slowly and I raced towards the door, glancing over my shoulder to see Paul salute with a grin. I took a moment to burn the image into my mind before rushing inside to find Arlene, who was pouting off in a corner. I heard her mumble some sarcastic comment when I told her it was time to go. I tracked down Mary quickly to bid her adieu and offer my thankfulness for inviting me. Afterwards, I skipped outside to see my father waiting in the car. I straightened my dress and smoothed my hair to make my way forwards slowly and calmly. The entire ride home he was asking about the party and I answered politely, saying everything I know my mother would want to hear because I knew she was the one who wanted to know, in the end. All I said to my father would also be said to my mother. Thankfully, Arlene stayed silent except for piping up about the loud music. We dropped her off and went home. Mother was already in bed so I went straight to my room and settled down for bed. Once I had slipped into my nightie, I cocooned myself into the covers and grinned like an idiot at the ceiling.

Paul kissed me, Paul kissed me, Paul kissed me.

My mind could repeat it for hours on end – for days! I squeezed my eyes shut tight, replaying the moment and remembering how he had felt. So sweet and gentle, but confident. Amidst the whimsicalness of the evening, I couldn't help but worry how we might meet again. Three unplanned encounters was as close as fate could get. It had no cards left in its hand. No, any other meeting would have to be planned which was up to Paul, as far as I assumed. I definitely couldn't waltz into Apple and ask for his contact information. I was a silly fan. Paul might even forget about me after tonight. I curled up in my bed, bringing my knees to my chest and feeling a bit less lively than before. All I could do now was wait. It would be traumatizing, but I could only hope Paul didn't think I was such a hopeless case as I often thought of myself. I felt like an idiot, but there was a flicker of hope burning in the back of my mind. I fell asleep thinking about Paul. For once my dreams didn't seem so out of touch with reality. I only hoped I'd never have to wake up.


End file.
